


Lay on Hands

by Sea-Glass (PJ_Marvell)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Backrubs, Ear Kink, M/M, No plot whatsoever, Some Fluff, happy endings, much smut, of both kinds, taking the "laying on hands" innuendo to its inevitable conclusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJ_Marvell/pseuds/Sea-Glass
Summary: Tjelvar tries to concentrate.  Edward tries to help.  Things don't go entirely to anyone's plan.
Relationships: Edward Keystone/Tjelvar Stornsnasson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	Lay on Hands

Tjelvar felt his mind slip from the heaps of crumbling parchment and pages of cramped notepaper in front of him for the third time in ten minutes and bit down a scream of exasperation.

He’d been stuck in this poky little room pretending to be a suite in the small house masquerading as an inn in this bend in the road with pretensions of villagehood for the last few days. The adrenaline of escaping the last barrow, necromantic energy crackling at his heels but never quite catching him, had worn off as the hours had slipped into days and Tjelvar made no further progress.

The scrolls they’d taken from that old tomb were spread out in front of him, still as maddeningly opaque as they had been the first time he’d read them. Endless notes and puzzling and teasing out little details and he was no closer to working out what half the riddles in the scrolls meant, although he was beginning to suspect that was less a fault of his and more a fault of whichever whimsical half-demented bastard had written them in the first place. Granted, the city of Ys had lain in its briny grave for more than a thousand years so time wasn’t exactly pressing, but the sickly green wallpaper seemed to draw closer every hour and Tjelvar felt the frustration building in him like a stormcloud. Worse still, there was no relief to be had - there was no one and nothing in a five-mile radius worth talking to. Except Edward, and that was an altogether different set of problems.

Tjelvar didn’t turn around - didn’t need to, the soft sounds of the paladin polishing his armour and weapons still a steady punctuation to the soft hymns to Apollo he hummed as he worked. Tjelvar knew them well enough now he could probably sing in harmony. There were a lot of things he knew about Edward after half a year of adventuring together, two spare parts on the other side of the end of the world. The blue veins had come and gone and somehow the tremors of these strange and changing times had shaken them together. A companionship of convenience - a paladin was a useful thing to have around when your day job involved occasionally walking into traps - that had edged into something Tjelvar knew the shape of but didn’t quite dare to name. Why he was quite so hesitant to confirm what he felt to himself, he didn’t quite know. It wouldn’t stop him from knowing which hymns were Edward’s favourite, how the ritual of cleaning his armour always calmed him; or from knowing exactly how Edward would look were Tjelvar to turn around, sat on the edge of the bed and absorbed in his work, a small smile on his face. It turned out there were a great many things to know about Edward Keystone, whatever your first impressions of him were, and that Tjelvar disliked very few of the things he’d found out.

Tjelvar stared into the middle distance, worrying at the hollowness in his gut that had nothing to do with his stalling hunt for the lost city, before pushing everything but the legend of Gralion to the edges of his mind and stretching his shoulders. Upon which his neck let out a crack so loud that behind him Edward dropped the piece of armour he was polishing.

“Sorry,” muttered Tjelvar, frozen with arms half-lifted, almost afraid to move in case it turned out something had snapped. He attempted to roll the offending shoulder loose but that just unleashed another volley of unholy crackles and Ed was off the bed and on his feet in a second. “Ed, it’s fine,” Tjelvar began, trying to wave Edward back into his seat, and found himself betrayed by a vertebra clicking back into place. “Ow. I’m just stiff, that’s all.”

“You’ve been sat at that desk too long,” replied Edward, not a hint of reproach behind the worry. “That sounded painful, Tjelvar. ‘S not good, spending all that time reading and stuff.”

“I know.” Tjelvar gave up on trying to be quiet and just rolled out his tense muscles as quickly as possible. “But I’ve got to get to the bottom of this, Eddie, or else - oh.” Tjelvar was reminded that Edward could move remarkably quietly when out of his armour as his hand landed on Tjelvar’s shoulder. Tjelvar willed himself to stay irritable and not to look around. “Eddie, I’m just aching, I don’t think this merits a laying-on of hands.”

“Hold still,” Edward’s other hand came to Tjelvar’s shoulder, both then moving gently up towards his neck. “I can help.”

“Really, Ed, I’d rather you conserved your energy in case anyone hears we’re archaeologists and gets the wrong idea about -” Tjelvar began, trying to duck out from the gentle touch when Edward squeezed, firmly and gently, on both Tjelvar’s trapezoid muscles and anything else Tjelvar might have said came out as a drawn-out groan.

“They taught us other ways of healing,” said Edward quietly, rubbing small circles into the muscle of Tjelvar’s shoulder. “Is that...would it be okay if I helped?”

“That would...be nice, thank you,” replied Tjelvar, for a moment utterly focused on the pleasant pain as Edward pinched the top line of his shoulders.

“Brilliant!” Edward gave Tjelvar’s back a comradely pat and bounded across the room to grab the suite’s other chair, and Tjelvar’s rational mind hauled itself out of the blissful fog and reminded him this was Edward who’d be running his fingers up and down Tjelvar’s back. The heat of Edward’s palms against his shoulder blades, the pads of his thumbs pressing lower and lower down his back…

“Er, Edward,” Tjelvar began, standing and praying that Edward didn’t hear the latest rhythm of cracking sinews. Edward, chair in hand and returning, gave him a pleased grin.

“This’ll dead good Tjelvar, I promise, I actually got really good marks in this class, Madame Madeleine said I had really strong fingers.”

“That’s great, Ed, but actually I think…”

“If you sit backwards on your chair, like this,” Edward spun Tjelvar’s chair around, taking him by the elbow and steering him towards it.

“Oh - alright,” Tjelvar stuttered as he was guided carefully down to straddle his chair. “But, Edward, do you think -”

“Then sit around like that with your arms on the back of it, right….”

“Right, fine,” Tjelvar tried not to notice how as Edward leaned forward, arranging Tjelvar’s arms in a soft clasp on the chair’s backrest, his chest was pressed into Tjelvar’s back. “I actually think this might not -”

“And you can rest your head forward there.”

“Yes, lovely,” said Tjelvar, words short as Edward guided his head forward, his hands cupping Tjelvar’s jaw and therefore in exactly the right place to feel the heat of Tjelvar’s scorching blush. “Edward would you -”

“And then scoot backwards just a bit here…”

“Uh…” was all Tjelvar managed as Edward’s hands gripped his hips and shifted his rear a little further towards the back of the chair. Something hot uncoiled in the pit of his stomach at the contact and he felt panic rising in his throat and he sat up, determined he had to actually say what he was thinking this time.

“Relax a bit, Tjelvar,” Edward leaned sideways so as to catch Tjelvar’s gaze as he turned, expression earnest and just a little imploring. “I promise I know what I’m doing. Let me help. Please?”

“Of course, Eddie,” replied Tjelvar weakly, holding that bright blue-eyed gaze for just a moment longer before sagging his head forward to rest on his forearms - he’d rather pull his own tusks out than say no to a look like that. Edward settled in behind Tjelvar, pulling his chair closer and shifting forward until his knees brushed the sides of Tjelvar’s thighs. Tjelvar swallowed as Edward took a breath and placed his hands on Tjelvar’s back.

“Let me know if it hurts,” said Edward, his voice low enough to rumble slightly, and began to move his fingers.

It was...bliss. Tjelvar had been bracing himself for - he wasn’t entirely sure. There had been an acid bubbling in the pit of his stomach as Edward leaned closer, a leaden weight to his tongue at the whole truth he wasn’t telling, but as the pressure of Edward’s palms moved down his back he felt them massaged into the aether. Edward’s fingers found and vanquished knots Tjelvar had formed as an undergrad, firmly and carefully slotting everything back the way it should be and Tjelvar felt years of tension start to shift. It hurt, especially in his shoulders that were far too used to his terrible desk posture, but the pain left something whole behind it.

“Do you mind if I take this down?” asked Edward, after a period of time Tjelvar could not determine save to acknowledge it was long enough to reduce the majority of his grey matter to some kind of butter. Edward’s hands were in his hair, one at the base of his neck and the other gently holding the knot Tjelvar had irritably swept his mop into hours earlier.

“Please, go ahead,” answered Tjelvar, already feeling tiny electric shivers along his hairline and slightly surprised at his ability to answer in whole words. He lost that fast enough as Edward’s expert attention worked its way across the back of his head, letting out a low groan of perfect contentment as Edward ran his nails softly across Tjelvar’s scalp.

“Tilt your head up for me?” asked Edward, fingers beneath Tjelvar’s jaw, raising his head slowly. Some small part of Tjelvar smiled softly at the thought that Edward’s hands were effectively wrapped around his neck and yet all Tjelvar wanted was for them to stay there, ghosting over the skin. Edward pressed the pads of his fingers from Tjelvar’s jaws to his temples, pushing softly around his eyes before rubbing gently across his forehead, and from there through Tjelvar’s hair to - 

\- Tjelvar’s eyes flew open.

Edward had the tips of his ears between his fingers, rubbing soft circles in the cartilage and suddenly Tjelvar couldn’t breathe. Each movement sent a bolt through him, through his core to his groin, fanning into flames something that had been smouldering unnoticed as Edward did his excellent work. Edward didn’t know - couldn’t have known - about orcs and the peculiarity of their ears. Just as Edward, like Tjelvar, was entirely unaware of how much Tjelvar had been...enjoying this contact.

Well. Tjelvar  _ had _ been unaware. He was painfully, mortifyingly aware of it now.

Gods above and below, how was he going to get out of this? Sooner or later he was going to have to stand up and gods how he wished he hadn’t opted for tight trousers today, Edward was going to see  _ everything _ and then - 

“Tjelvar?” Edward’s hands stilled, rested along the line of his ears. “You’ve gone all stiff.”

Tjelvar spent a long moment on the verge of expiration with embarrassment before he realised Edward was referring to the tension in his posture.

“Ears,” managed Tjelvar, before clearing his throat. “My ears are - quite sensitive, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry,” Edward’s hands moved behind Tjelvar’s ears and rubbed gently up the column f his neck. “Is this okay?”

“Fine,” said Tjelvar. It wasn’t. Edward was as good as this as he had been at everything else but Tjelvar’s brain wouldn’t return him to that gentle mindlessness, instead giving him snapshots of Edward’s lips replacing his fingers, of those broad calloused palms running down Tjelvar’s ribs to - 

“Edward,” Tjelvar said, his voice pitching high with ill-suppressed panic. “This has been - well you’re very good at it, excellent work, but I really need to get back to - to the quest.”

“Not quite done yet.” Edward moved his attention from Tjelvar’s neck to his collarbones and for just a moment Tjelvar could feel the heat of his breath.

“Ed really, I’ve got to go and…” One of Edward’s hand’s came to Tjelvar’s hip, presumably in concern as his attempt to get up was foiled by how close Edward sat behind him. Tjelvar felt an answering surge of heat between his legs and considered just throwing himself to the floor.

“Just a sec, Tjelvar!” Edward’s voice was concerned and a little stung as Tjelvar made his flailing escape attempt. “What’s wrong - oh.”

Edward’s arm, reaching up presumably to steady Tjelvar as he tried to extricate himself, missed its mark slightly and suddenly Tjelvar had no choice except to sit sharply back down. Any hope that Edward hadn’t realised the significance of the bulge his forearm had brushed against was lost when he muttered “oh” again and fell silent. Tjelvar wasn’t sure whether to pray for a lightning bolt, a hungry chasm in the floor or spontaneous combustion and settled on praying for whatever was fastest.

Tjelvar felt Edward inhale, then gulp. “I could,” he began, his voice rough with nervousness. “I could help with that too, if you like.”

Tjelvar felt his next breath leave without words, because what did one say to an invitation like that? What were the acceptable words for “that has been the sum total of my fantasies for several months now, please proceed”?

Edward, glorious Edward, saved him the trouble. Ever so lightly, so gently that had Tjelvar’s every nerve ending not been straining he might not have felt it, Edward kissed Tjelvar’s neck.

“Yes,” breathed Tjelvar, letting his head fall to one side and leaning back into Edward.

Edward’s arms wrapped around him, one around his waist and the other over his chest, holding him in place as one of Edward’s thumbs traced soft circles on Tjelvar’s collarbone. Tjelvar sighed as Edward pressed his face into the curve of Tjelvar’s neck, tracing the heat of his parted lips kiss by kiss from the base of his neck to the tender spot just beneath the hinge of his jaw. It was almost the massage carried on by other means, each physical sensation meant to reassure Tjelvar he was in hands that would hold him steady and safe and Tjelvar’s chest swelled with it. There was a high chance he was feeling things that weren’t present, projecting his overburdened heart onto Edward’s deliberate movements, but for a moment Tjelvar could almost feel veneration in the way Edward touched him. Something like peace and something else like pain settled along his spine at the slow worship of lips on skin, his paladin’s duty of adoration. For a moment Tjelvar’s emotion drowned out almost everything else, the tip of his tongue heavy with words of love in every dark language he knew.

Until Edward’s teeth closed gently around the lobe of Tjelvar’s ear and the sudden electric jolt sent Tjelvar’s breath catching.

“You said your ears were sensitive,” murmured Edward. “Good sensitive?”

“Y-yes,” replied Tjelvar, struggling to keep his voice steady as Edward’s tongue flickered softly about the edge of his ear. “Especially - ah! - Especially the points.”

Edward hummed an acknowledgement and Tjelvar had to fight down moans as Edward moved his mouth along the shell of Tjelvar’s ear. He lost the fight as Edward pulled the very tip into his mouth, something keening and needy slipping past his lips. Edward didn’t falter, only cupped Tjelvar’s chin in one hand and turned his head slightly, the better to access his ear. Tjelvar would have liked to kiss or nip at the thumb that skimmed his bottom lip but he suddenly needed all the air he could pull into his lungs. Instead he gripped the outside of Edward’s thighs and tried not to squeeze as Edward sent waves of pleasure rolling down him.

Edward’s hand left his jaw, and it was only after a minute or so of gentle tugging at his shirt that Tjelvar realised Edward was trying to one-handedly navigate the buttons. Keen that Edward not be distracted from the transcendent things he was doing with his mouth, Tjelvar batted his hand away and began unbuttoning the shirt himself. He’d already got three buttons down when Edward pulled away and loosened his grip around Tjelvar’s waist.

“Is everything okay?” Edward said, words a little clipped with worry. “You moved my hand, was that not good?”

“Good gods, don’t stop,” Tjelvar practically whined. “I was just helping you with the buttons.” Tjelvar made quick work of the rest of it and, intending to underline just how okay this was, pulled his shirt-tails out from where he’d tucked them into his trousers. He then had a long moment to sit and feel overdramatic and slightly ridiculous, the shirt beginning a slow slide off his shoulders, until Edward’s arms wrapped around his torso again.

“Right.” Edward’s voice was rough as his fingers traced trails of heat over Tjelvar’s bare chest. His lips returned to Tjelvar’s ear, open-mouthed and insistent; one of Edward’s hands came to rest over his navel, the pads of his fingers pressing gently, one at a time, into the softness of Tjelvar’s belly. The other hand skated up Tjelvar’s sternum and then outwards, first tracing the outlines of his nipples, then rubbing each carefully between thumb and fingers, the pull just enough to make Tjelvar arch his back and groan something animal through his teeth.

Edward kissed his way from Tjelvar’s ear to the crook of his neck, a drag of his fever-hot open mouth across Tjelvar’s goose-pimpling skin, and slipped two fingers over the corner of Tjelvar’s belt buckle.

“Can I?” he asked, close enough that Tjelvar felt the ghosts of the words where Edward’s chest pressed into his back.

“I’ll get it.” Tjelvar loosed his trousers faster than he ever remembered doing, fingers fumbling as he shimmied out of them, the sturdy wool abruptly unbearable. His underwear followed, a short second of stinging self consciousness later, and his erection bobbed free. Tjelvar worried the inside of his lip as he sat there, exposed from shoulders to knees and achingly, urgently hard. But Edward’s arms held him safe and Edward’s face stayed tucked against his neck as his paladin took a long, steadying breath.

“Um. Okay,” said Edward, words a little slow in coming as though he was returning from somewhere far away. “I...do you have...that salve you were using earlier - I need something for my hands if…”

“How about this?” Tjelvar laced his fingers through those of the hand that rested on his stomach, raising it to his lips to lay a kiss on Edward’s wrist and trace his pulse with his lips. And then, before Edward could release the breath he’d drawn, Tjelvar ran his tongue from the heel of Edward’s palm to the tip of his fingers - slowly, and taking care to leave the skin slick. It wouldn’t do to do a half-decent job of lubrication, after all. Tjelvar felt Edward’s next breath shake and felt something loosen in his chest. It was probably a function of his chosen career, this constant suspicion that the roof might (literally or figuratively) fall in at any given moment. Somehow, even as Edward held him closer than anyone had in years, Tjelvar had found the time to fret, to worry that he had somehow misinterpreted or taken advantage. Listening to Edward’s breath grow heavier as Tjelvar’s tongue reached the tip of his middle finger (and laid a small, devoted kiss there) finally smoothed that last wrinkle of worry. And, returning to the matters of the moment, confirmed that Tjelvar hadn’t been mistaken about the firm, insistent pressure that had been nudging his tailbone for the last ten minutes or so.

“That...that works,” replied Edward, a moment and a stutter later, and then his hand was wrapped around Tjelvar’s cock and Tjelvar’s vision had gone slightly white at the edges.

Edward didn’t tease, didn’t try to spin it out, just wrapped one arm around Tjelvar’s waist to keep him anchored as Edward set about wanking him to completion. Tjelvar was already close to climax, the tight weft in which he kept his emotions unspooling beneath Edward’s ruthless tenderness. The ache in his cock built as Edward gently and firmly tugged him off, his hips bucking and thighs trembling in time to the steady rhythm of Edward’s hand.

“Let go,” whispered Edward, shaping the word against the skin of Tjelvar’s shoulder where he’d buried his face, no longer kissing but taking deep, measured breaths that sent ripples of rapture down Tjelvar’s spine. Tjelvar clenched his jaw one last time, then let himself fall back against Edward, let his arms fall to Edward’s thighs, let his head loll back onto Edward’s shoulder - did exactly as Edward asked and laid himself open to his lover.

His fingers bunched in the material of Edward’s breeches - his hips jerked upwards and with three short, harsh, voiceless breaths, Tjelvar came, spilling cum in warm splashes across his stomach.

Some short but indefinable length of time passed before Tjelvar remembered enough of himself to feel his eyelids again and let them flutter open. The only sure point in the floating aftermath were Edward’s arms, still holding him safe and close enough that Tjelvar began to bring himself back together. He was still utterly weak at the knees and most of his higher mental functions were still offline, but Tjelvar gathered enough of his thoughts to remember there was something he wanted to do and lifted one hand to reach back and run his fingers through Edward’s hair, the golden locks slightly damp with sweat and just as soft as Tjelvar had always imagined they’d be.

“Edward,” he murmured, and Edward lifted his head. Tjelvar shifted just enough that he could turn to face him - far too close to properly make out his features, but if one were to tilt their head like  _ so _ then lean just a fraction forward like  _ that _ \- 

Edward made a short sound of surprise as Tjelvar kissed him that transitioned into something lower and longing as Tjelvar parted his lips and introduced tongue and teeth to the exchange. Delighted disbelief began to weave itself around Tjelvar’s ribs. He had ached for this, for  _ Edward _ , for such a long time and never once suspected that his feelings were in any way returned - and here was Edward, sighing like the wind through a weeping willow as his fingers traced the outline of Tjelvar’s jaw with something that felt like reverence.

It was the chair that broke them apart eventually - it gave an alarming creak as Tjelvar twisted, aiming to better kiss Edward, and they broke apart suddenly bashful and laughing. Tjelvar got to his feet, noting the way Edward’s hands lingered on his hips for a fraction longer than was necessary to steady him. Tjelvar pulled himself self-consciously back into his trousers, feeling untethered and vulnerable now he’d stepped out of the haven of Edward’s arms. Tjelvar’s hand went to his hair, knotted beyond a quick fix, and then he glanced down at his open shirt and the cooling cum on his belly. The beginnings of annoyance and embarrassment flickered between his temples, and then he noticed Edward’s eyes fixed on him.

Edward’s lips were parted and his throat flushed, his dick tenting his trousers as his gaze flickered over Tjelvar. Tjelvar paused, putting aside his own discomfiture and considering what Edward might be seeing - his hair wild and loose, the plane of his abdomen damp with sweat and semen. Edward glanced up, his look fire-bright and fleeting, too quickly cast to one side as the flush crept up his cheeks.

“I need to - we should get cleaned up.” Edward looked determinedly away from him, casting his eyes about until they lighted on the sink in the corner. “I’ll just, er, I’ll just go and…” Edward trailed off as Tjelvar’s hand cupped his cheek.

“Would you let me, Edward?” Tjelvar asked, stroking one thumb across Edward’s cheek while the other hand caressed his neck and slipped beneath the collar of his shirt. Edward opened his mouth, seemed to come up blank, and closed it again.

“Tjelvar - you don’t have to,” he managed on the second attempt. Tjelvar smoothed his fingers across the line of Edward’s cheekbone and across his temple, before running a nail softly over the skin behind Edward’s ear and noting with glee the way his eyes unfocussed.

“I know that,” said Tjelvar, leaning forward to brush his nose against Edward’s. “I want to.” He heard Edward take in a breath and took the opportunity to kiss him, lazy and full of promise.

“Y-yeah,” said Edward, voice husky and already half-lost. “Okay. Yeah.”

Tjelvar grinned and leaned in to kiss him again, nipping at his bottom lip, enjoying earnest way Edward leaned forward, suddenly shy and hesitant despite the scent of sex still heavy in the air.

“Your shirt,” Tjelvar rumbled against Edward’s lips.

“What?” Edward didn’t quite open his eyes, hands finally coming to rest on Tjelvar’s hips.

“Your shirt. It’s in the way.”

“Oh.” Edward pulled his shirt over his head so fast Tjelvar was sure he heard a seam pull and then… 

It wasn’t as though this was the first time he’d ever seen Edward shirtless. They’d been living in a long line of temporary cramped accommodations as they’d worked together and a certain erosion of personal privacy was unavoidable. But this was the first time he was allowed to touch, to bring his palms down on the warm, sunkissed skin of Edward’s shoulders and run his hands down across Edward’s chest. Their eyes briefly met - Edward’s dark with want as he arched, ever so slightly, into the touch.

Tjelvar took a breath and returned his hold to Edward’s face, tilting it upwards so he could kiss him, hungry and deep as Edward’s fingers slipped up beneath his open shirt to his flank. He kept Edward’s face tilted upwards as he descended, kissing first his chin, then the velvet skin of his throat, down past his collarbones and the myriad small scars that dutiful paladins wore with pride, feeling Edward’s abs twitch as his lips and tongue traced across them, until his nose was pressed into Edward’s navel and Tjelvar knelt, in something akin to worship, between Edward’s spread and shivering knees.

“Tjelvar,” he gasped, one hand finding Tjelvar’s and holding on.

“Shall I?” asked Tjelvar, one hand on Edward’s belt buckle and a smile of anticipation on his face. Edward nodded, his breathing already heavy. Tjelvar grinned up at him once more before threading Edward’s hand through his hair and pulling Edward’s cock free of his trousers.

It was magnificent, of course - perfectly in proportion with him, broad and weighty and at that point, almost painfully hard. Tjelvar leaned forward, breathing in the hot sweet scent of Edward’s arousal and enjoying the way his exhale made Edward squirm. He took another breath in and, just as Edward tensed in anticipation, ran the tip of his tongue up the underside of Edward’s dick, flicking his tongue over the head.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” whispered Edward hoarsely, his hand tightening reflexively in Tjelvar’s hair. “Sorry,” he said, a gulp of air later, and gently smoothed Tjelvar’s hair back down.

“I believe,” growled Tjelvar. “That’s what I’m doing.” He dipped back down to pull the tip of Edward’s cock into his mouth, sucking briefly before releasing and smirking as Edward moaned “oh, gods” to the ceiling.

This would be a fine way to spend hours at a time, Tjelvar thought. Find each sensitive spot, each caress or lick or suck that would send Edward’s eyes rolling back in his head, take Edward apart piece by adored piece, uncover him layer by layer the way one might an ancient road. Tjelvar wanted to discover Edward the way he might a mythical tomb, to tease out every detail hidden in riddle and shine a lantern into every shadowed corner. He wanted to map the labyrinth of thought and feeling and history that made up Edward and draw it on the inside of his ribs so he’d always know it, and for a moment the sheer want lodged so tight and sharp in Tjelvar’s throat that he almost couldn’t breathe with it.

But Edward’s knuckles were white where his free hand clutched the edge of his chair, so instead Tjelvar took a gentle hold of the base of Edward’s dick and took the top of it into his mouth, sinking as far down as he could before pulling up, hollowing his cheeks and hearing Edward’s sharp, wordless exclamation above him. It didn’t take long - Edward had been most of the way before Tjelvar started and when Edward squeezed his shoulder with a strangled word of warning it felt far too soon.

Tjelvar pressed down on Edward’s thighs, pinning him to the chair, and swallowed him down as he came with a half-stifled shout, fingers still in Tjelvar’s hair.

Edward’s fingers stayed there, carefully cupped around the curve of Tjelvar’s skull, as Tjelvar gently disengaged and dabbed as discreetly as he could at the corners of his mouth. Edward wasn’t looking at him, sagged backwards on the chair with his chest heaving and eyes closed. Tjelvar could trace the line from his pubic hair up to the tip of his chin and the sudden urge to cover and protect that long stretch of precious vulnerability spiked in his gut. Deciding that perhaps a washcloth and a jug of water might be a more suitable need to fulfil in the present moment, Tjelvar guided Edward’s hand from his hair and placed an almost shy kiss in its slack palm. He went to place Edward’s hand back on his lap, meaning to stand, but Edward’s fingers tightened around his.

Tjelvar looked up to find Edward looking back, the sheen of sweat on his forehead catching the light and an indescribable glitter in his eyes. Edward sat forward, taking Tjelvar’s face in both hands, and kissed him. In the days to come, Tjelvar would still get half-hard if he thought about it too long - Edward had made love tenderly and reverently, holding him as carefully as though he was the icon of a saint, but if this kiss was a prayer it was a blood-sacrifice, something desperate and deep, spurred by unbearable need. It was all Tjelvar could do hold on to Edward’s wrists and moan softly into his mouth.

“Ah - sorry,” said Edward, breaking away a few moments later, face beginning to twist like he’d mislaid one of Tjelvar’s books and not just given him the most thorough snogging of his entire life thus far. “I should have - mph!” He stuttered to a halt as Tjelvar employed the most expedient means at hand to interrupt him.

“Don’t ever,” growled Tjelvar, breaking the kiss and staying close enough that their noses touched. “Apologise for kissing me like that.” Edward took yet another breath that might have been for an apology and Tjelvar kissed him a second time, nipping his lip for emphasis. “Or for kissing me at all.”

“I - sor - right,” Edward grinned, his bashfulness still present at the edges of his face but being shunted out of the way by something much warmer.

“Good,” said Tjelvar, feeling himself begin to beam back. “Glad we’ve got that sorted.”

They hadn’t really, thought Tjelvar as they helped one another to standing, got anything at all sorted. They shuffled around each other in the small room, finding themselves touching more than they might have a few hours ago, gently reassembling themselves until Tjelvar was glancing in the cracked mirror and raking his hair back into its customary knot. As he tied it he caught two things; the furtive and almost mournful glance that Edward cast at his back and the little pang of disappointment in his own gut that it wasn’t Edward’s fingers raking through his hair.

“I’m still no further on with the scrolls,” said Tjelvar, because it was far too soon to say  _ I love you _ and he didn’t quite know how to phrase  _ stay with me, please _ . 

Edward immediately looked concerned. “You need to be careful, Tjelvar - I will have to lay on hands if you hurt yourself again.”

“Worked out quite well for me last time,” replied Tjelvar, finishing with his hair and smirking over his shoulder at the flush on Edward’s cheeks, not quite faded and now back in full force.

“Tjelvar!”

“All right, I take your point.” Tjelvar walked back to the desk, took in his increasingly frustrated handwriting and sighed. “But this has to be done, Eddie - we’re stuck here until I work this out, I’m afraid.”

“Can I help?”

“Not unless you read medieval French, I’m afraid.” Tjelvar frowned pensively down at his papers. “Actually, scratch that - would it be all right if I talked it through with you? You don’t have to say anything - or even really listen, come to that - but it might help if I say it all out loud.”

“Yeah! If I can help, that’s great.” From the way Edward bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, he meant it. “You should come and sit on the bed, though - that chair is too hard to be comfortable.”

There followed a short period of fuss during which Tjelvar’s academic setup warred with Edward’s regime of comfot, but eventually all was arranged to their mutual satisfaction. Edward set himself down on the sheets, positioning himself to get the proper lumbar support from the minor fortress of blankets and pillows he’d constructed, and patted the space next to him on the sheets. Tjelvar paused, looking into Edward’s bright gaze a moment, before slotting himself along Edward’s side, leaning into his shoulder and hooking one ankle over Edward’s with over-affected nonchalance.

“So, Eddie,” said Tjelvar, voice a little louder and brusquer than was perhaps warranted. “How much of the legend of Gralion and Ys have you picked up so far?”

“Um, some,” said Edward, and Tjelvar almost stopped breathing at Edward’s hand snaked slowly around his flank and held him loosely around the waist. “Ys was the city that got sunk when someone opened the gates, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Tjelvar. “Yes, that’s exactly it. With only one survivor, if the legend is true - King Gralion himself.” Tjelvar worried his lip, attempting to summon his courage. “Ah, Ed? This - this is good.”

“I told you the bed would be more comfortable.”

“No, Edward, I meant  _ this _ ,” said Tjelvar, laying his hand on the one on his flank, intertwining their fingers. “This is...good. I wouldn’t mind if - I mean, I’d like it if we did this from now on. If - you’d like to, of course.”

“Yeah.” Edward’s hold tightened a little and Tjelvar didn’t need to turn to know the shape of the smile dawning on his face. “Yeah, I would.”

“Lovely,” said Tjelvar, hoping he didn’t sound as giddy as he suddenly felt. “Well then, that’s settled.”

And so the afternoon carried on, in many ways not materially changed from the morning save the vanishing of the space between them. Tjelvar read through the legend and the riddles, answering all of Edward’s tangential questions, and in the meantime both of them relaxed into each other. Nothing had materially changed as Tjelvar lounged back and threw his legs across Edward’s lap as he tried to map cryptic and ancient texts to recorded history; but somehow the dim little room held more time. Tjelvar had arrived in it fixated on the morning, on the week coming and the race to find Gralion’s tomb before anyone else did. He still felt that - he had no more say in that urge than a terrier after a rabbit - but there were things beyond that now, a future still shapeless but suddenly full of potentialities, accreting slowly around Edward’s warm, steady form.

It was a difficult thing to forget or push aside, even as the afternoon wore to evening and both their stomachs began to rumble, or after that when Tjelvar almost threw his stew over the ceiling in excitement as a distracted question from Edward at last made the riddle click in his mind, or even later than that after several fevered hours over maps had  _ finally _ pinned the next waypoint down and Edward at last insisted that Tjelvar get some sleep, or else he’d be useless in the morning. Tjelvar had always had the sense of a great wide world unrolling at his feet - it was part of what had driven him out of his parent’s village all those years ago. Now time stretched out in the same way before him - a life yet unlived and with something in it that warmed him more than the prospect of the next treasure hunt could. It was a strange, precipitous feeling, watching Edward fall asleep next to him and not yearn to kiss him, to know that he could simply do it, now and all the days after that Edward remained agreeable to it.

_ A new adventure _ , thought Tjelvar as he drifted off too.  _ One for the story books, I’ll bet _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any errors - I am rusty at both proofreading and smut-writing. Thank you for reading!


End file.
